Blake needs a date to his enemy's destination wedding. And not just anyone-a professional. The billionaire genius behind 215 Tech doesn't have time to nurture a real relationship. He hires Lucy to be his fake girlfriend, but things become real when...
The sound of a dozen lenses shuttering is accompanied by flashing light, momentarily blinding me. I fight the urge to blink, my eyes watering. The bustling street outside Peacock Theater blurs, blending with nearby buildings and the blue sky. It's a comfortable sixty-five-degree day here in Los Angeles, considered unseasonably cold for December. The late afternoon sun is approaching the sea, but still has enough energy to warm the black fabric if my suit.
Once the photographers have had ample time to get a solo shot, I reclaim my position at Brigid's side. Her smile is tentative and shy—she's overwhelmed by the attention. I step partially behind her, my shoes dusting over the worn red carpet, and place my palm on her growing belly. She relaxes into my chest, both her and our unborn son calming at my presence.
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We're at The Game Awards, the pinnacle event for video game companies, content creators, and internet personalities. A few months ago, 215 Technology released its first product after two years of dormancy. Within twenty-four hours, Lucy shattered records, becoming the highest grossing single-title release of the decade. Grace's contribution—the game's soundtrack—is topping charts on all major streaming services. I've been contacted by production companies, asking for the right to make it into a feature film or television series.
They'll have to wait. Brigid and I have been working nonstop, so we're taking a break after tonight. She's entering her third trimester, and I won't do as single leg of this journey without her. It's been the highlight of my career to watch her grow into both a confident artist and charismatic leader at our company. She's come full circle—from gifting me her art years ago, to now standing by my side as Lucy is nominated for seven awards.
A commotion on the street snags our attention. The photographers turn, watching a black Range Rover pull to the curb in front of the venue. A petite woman wearing combat boots and a leather slip dress exits the vehicle, tossing her hair over a shoulder. A blond quarterback rounds the SUV, immediately putting himself between the woman and the paparazzi clambering toward her.
"Grace is here," I murmur seconds before they begin shouting her name.
Whenever a family member is honored at an event, Grace is always the last to arrive. She's a magnet for media attention. By showing up late, she aims to keep the spotlight on us as long as possible.
"Gracie! Gracie, give us a smile!"
She won't smile for them. She never does.
"Payton, over here! Over here, please!"
Payton wraps a protective arm around my sister, catching my eye from the other end of the carpet. He notches his chin in greeting. I give him a quick salute in return.
As someone who abhors reporters, I don't mind being overlooked. However, I'm grateful Brigid got to experience fame for thirty minutes. But judging by the look on her face, she's had her fill of cameras.
